


Terrifying Lies

by alienarcher



Category: Red Balloon | 紅色氣球
Genre: ( kinda ? ), Abusive Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, M/M, Narrative Without Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 13:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienarcher/pseuds/alienarcher
Summary: My perspective on how Chen felt during those thirteen years, five months and six days.





	Terrifying Lies

Scientists conclude that on average each person lies about 1.65 times a day, and many believe that it’s because everyone feels a necessity to lie about something, at least a little. Lie about that dress being really pretty, lie about someone being smart, lie about that boring story that happened to you, when you were 15 by blowing it out of proportion, and so on and so forth. And, based on all that, one would think that it would be exceptionally easy to lie about one certain thing every single day of your life. You don’t even have to make anything up or actively do anything - just go along with the lie you’ve been telling for so long. But, somehow, that’s not true. In fact, that’s the opposite of the truth - it’s so hard that it’s practically impossible. 

Chen did what he had to do in order to please his father. The man was ill for so long, and didn’t remember practically anything – apart from the thing Chen was trying to bury deep inside him so hard. Every day Chen was coming to visit his father, knowing that he will have to be reminded of Wan again. It was painful. It was so painful sometimes that Chen wanted to give up everything just to see him one last time. Yet, he knew his duties as a son, and he knew he had to look after his elders. So, how could he not listen, when his ill father pointed a gun at him, threatening to kill him, if he doesn’t comply? He had to listen. He was obliged to listen, and so he did. 

Finding a girl that liked him was the easiest thing that Chen has ever done. Wan once told him that he would have to reject a lot of girls in his time, and he was right. This time, the whole point was in simply not rejecting whoever comes along next. It was easy at first. Wrapped up in all the metaphors of killing “the previous Chen”, and seeing the goal of simply doing exactly what Chen’s father told him, it was dreadfully easy to pretend. It was even – dare he say – nice, at first. When there are no feelings involved, there is nothing to care or worry about. You just don’t give a shit, and you know you’ll come out of it all a winner, no matter how it ends.

As time went by, though, it became harder and harder. Especially, when the daughter came along. Something good and important came out of something so fake and toxic, it felt almost impossible. Chen held his daughter in his arms for the first time and cried. Everyone thought those were tears of joy, and even he believed it for a second. He was pretending long enough to sometimes truly feel like he was being that person everyone else saw in him, to dive into the lie. Yet deep inside he knew that he wasn’t happily crying about his daughter being born. He was weeping for the girl, whose family was a scam, who’d have to live a lie her whole life. That was the first time he thought about dropping the act – too many people were involved, and now someone he actually loved with his whole heart was involved too. But, he knew he couldn’t. He knew he would die, be murdered by his own father, if he so much as thinks about doing something like that.

So, he went into an auto-pilot mode. He woke up at the same time every morning, ate breakfast sitting on the same exact chair as every other day, went to work using the exact same path at the exact same time as yesterday and tomorrow, went off work at the exact same time too. Went into the exact same restaurant, drank the exact same coffee, read the exact same magazine, and laughed at the exact same article. Went home at the exact same time, and went to bed at the exact same time as well. That was his every day – exactly the same, without a fault. 

When even that became unbearable, Chen gave himself permission to do this one thing once a month – go to his old high school, sit by the tree, where he once sat with the love of his life, and drown himself in memories. It helped. At least a little, but it helped. 

And then, Chen’s father died. And his world was turned upside down. But not the same way most children’s worlds turn upside down, when their parents die – no. Chen was raised a certain way. And he knew that he didn’t love his father, yet he felt a nagging sense of obligation about following his father’s rules and orders, so he did. For the past thirteen years, he has been doing none of the things he wanted. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t himself anymore, he was someone else now, someone entirely different – someone his father wanted him to be. But now that he died, Chen realized – he didn’t change at all. He buried himself – his real self – somewhere deep inside, but the real Chen never died. The real Chen was waiting for this moment all along, and now that it had come, he wasn’t willing to stay buried even for another second. And to be honest, Chen didn’t want him to stay buried any longer either. 

So, the real Chen was released. And it was hard at first – coming back to himself. One would think it should be easy, but it wasn’t easy at all. Coming back to all his real feelings and emotions, coming back to the way he’s always walked and talked, to the things he liked, to the things (and ones) he loved, after pretending for over a decade felt like his prison was crumbling apart around him. He saw the sun finally shining somewhere above, and that felt promising, but the prison’s concrete blocks falling on his already weakened body still hurt a lot. 

It stopped hurting soon enough, though. Not entirely, not enough for him to completely get rid of the nightmares, or the sudden nagging sense of obligation to his dead father, or the need to sometimes pretend – just to be safe. But it was easier. It became easier ever since he saw him again. 

It wasn’t a coincidence. Chen was way too tired of relying on faith and promises to rely on coincidences too, so he tracked Wan down. It wasn’t very hard, he became quite a successful photographer – so much so that Chen was partly surprised he has never crossed paths or even heard of him at any point during those painful thirteen years.

When Chen first found Wan’s photography site, he felt proud – prouder than he’s ever felt before. Wan has really grown as an artist, and as a man too, if those few pictures of him were anything to go by. Seeing all the beautiful photos taken by Wan made Chen want to see him even more, if that was even possible. He could see something in the photos, he could see a part of Wan’s soul, and somehow even a part of his own. He could feel a shadow of himself in the melancholic pictures of landscapes, and greyish somehow quiet pictures of men, women, people – pictures of their backs, their hair, their hands: anything, but their faces. Chen could feel the infinite sadness and just a bit of hope in photos of deep blue night skies, he could feel the loneliness in the photos of big cities, and somewhere among all that chaos he could feel Wan.

The way they arranged to meet was nothing like Chen expected. He prepared a speech – something to say on the phone to explain himself, to make sure Wan knows what he means by all this. Instead, it was a short talk, and Chen lied that he really needs a photo shoot for his company by some reason. It was awkward, a bit clumsy, and definitely quite frustrating, but at the same time not uncomfortable at all. It was like coming to see your distant relative you used to be really close to after not hearing from them in years - you’ve both changed, and you’re both completely new and unknown to each other now, but at the same time it feels very familiar, and all the warm feelings are still there.

He dressed up extra special on that day – something he hasn’t done in a decade. He’s gotten so used to wearing different variations of the same suit, it felt weird to finally throw something even a bit different on – weird, but good. And lively. 

His assistant brought him a coffee and a promise that Wan will come soon. The coffee meant nothing – he didn’t take a single sip, and wasn’t planning to either. The promise, on the other hand, meant everything. It meant more than his assistant could ever think. 

He sighed loudly, feeling anxious, feeling surreal. A hand touched his shoulder. He turned around and saw him. He saw Wan, he saw the love of his life, his soulmate, the person he loves and admires the most, the person he’s most proud of, the person he wants to spend his whole life with. He knows they were destined to be together ever since they looked each other in the eyes all those fourteen years ago. He knows they were destined to meet again ever since they looked each other in the eyes for seemingly the last time all those thirteen years, five months and six days ago. They look each other in the eyes now, after all that time. They know: they will never let go of each other again…


End file.
